


Dutifully

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: D/s, Dom!Sam, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Humiliation, M/M, Sub!Dean, Top!Sam, Voyeurism, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been a bad, needy slut all day, so Sam reacts accordingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dutifully

“So,” Sam starts, walking around Dean, trailing close enough to touch him and god, Dean  _wants_  it, arches up trying, but he doesn’t get it. “You know you were being a needy little slut today, right?”

Dean wants to protest; it’s on the tip of his tongue, feigned ignorance that would only get him into more trouble. Not like there’s much more trouble he can get into at this point. He’s naked on the edge of the bed, had to strip for Sam and fold everything up neatly and put it all away, except for his boxers and their tell-tale wet spot on the front. Sam’s got those held in his fist.

Eventually, Dean just nods, looking down at his hands, clasped in his lap, trying not to look at his firmed up dick curving heavy against his thigh. 

“Ruined your boxers,” Sam chuckles, stopping just out of Dean’s eyeline, unfurling the soiled things, inspecting them. Smelling them. “Good thing I didn’t let you wear those fancy panties you like, huh? You’d be cleaning those off with your mouth. Delicates, you know? Can’t throw them in with the rest of the wash.”

It doesn’t sound like a bad plan anyway. Dean’s been dying for something - anything - in his mouth all day and he’s totally settle for his own messed up panties at this point.

Sam meanders back around in front of him and Dean cranes his neck up. Sam’s smirking down at him, looking cool as anything and here’s Dean squirming on the bed and nothing’s even happening. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking horny.

“What was you wanted, Dean?” Sam tilts his head puppylike, eyebrows down in mocking confusion. “What was it you kept saying?”

Oh god, he’s going to make him say it again and it’s so much worse like this, with Sam fully clothed and looming. Dean spends too long panting and twisting his fingers together and suddenly Sam’s reaching down, grabbing his chin, his jaw, spanning his whole face with those big hands.

“Hmm, Dean? Gone all quiet? Not gonna ask for it now?”

Dean can barely speak around the grasping fingers digging in, and his voice comes out all strained, high and needy, already begging, “Just-just wanted you to fuck me, Sam. Wanted it all day.”

“Yeah,” Sam rasps, lets go of his brother’s face and takes a step back, just looking, dark eyes sweeping up and down Dean numerous times, unnerving and fucking hot and Dean’s dick leaks against his leg, already. “All fours, face the wall.”

Dean scrambles to comply, no thought, all reaction. Maybe it won’t be so bad, maybe Sam will actually fuck him into the mattress like he wants, dig his fingers raw into Dean’s hips, fill his ass up. Dutifully, Dean stares ahead at the gloomy wall, shivering at the feeling of being utterly exposed for Sam. But he’s there a long time and nothing’s happening and when he does dare a glance over his shoulder, Sam’s hand cracks down on his ass and he jumps from the smack, whines from the sting that spreads across his skin.

“Face the wall,” Sam reiterates, shuffling something around behind him. A bottle of lube lands right by Dean’s head and he fights hard against the urge to look back. “Be good, Dean, for once, and finger yourself open for me?”

Dean’s breath hitches. A chair scrapes across the floor and he knows Sam’s got a front row seat now. And of course it would be better with his brother’s fingers splitting his ass open but he doesn’t mind putting on a show either; he’d take anything at this point. He’s quick, slicking lube over two fingers, spreading the smooth stuff around his hole and right away, trying to press in, and he could, he knows it, he’s gasping and sliding his fingertips in, one shoulder dropping to the bed.

But Sam makes a disapproving noise that freezes Dean on the spot. “One at a time,” he instructs, casually, “And once you’re at three, we can revisit the situation. You might even get to come.”

“Jesus,” Dean sighs out, adjusting the position of his hand and not  _really_  going too much slower, pushing his index finger inside in a slick slide, biting his lip against the neediest moan when he clenches around way too little. “I want you to fuck me, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam says, simply, and Dean can hear the shrug. “You haven’t stopped whining about it all day. Bad little sluts have to fuck themselves first. New rule.”

“Can’t just change the rules like that,” Dean grumbles against the bed, but it’s already nice, already enough to get lost in, his long finger pumping in and out of his own ass, his face on fire with blush, his dick hanging down exposed and leaky for Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckles out, the chair legs scraping closer. Dean jumps when Sam grabs his ass hard, pulling him open further. “Yeah I can.”


End file.
